


Let it Pass

by bcnhlls



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anger management a la Hannibal, Gen, M/M, Will and Hannibal are still gray area as hell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-11
Updated: 2016-10-11
Packaged: 2018-08-21 23:26:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8264363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bcnhlls/pseuds/bcnhlls
Summary: Hannibal can never know.“I won’t tell your papa,” Will says to Eva, “this is just between you and me.”Will takes her out, a few acres away from their cabin, and hands her a rifle. It came with the house, hung up on the wall next to the head of a stag.“Would he be mad?”“Your father thinks guns are cowardly,” he tells her as he corrects her stance, “he would much rather walk up to someone, snap their neck, and run. There’s bravery in facing your opponent; giving them your face so that they’ll know exactly who brought them their end.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> i don't know what universe this is in, but i imagine they're not on the run at all. they're probably just morally-grey as ever, but they're real nice and secretive about it. like that sus as fuck neighbour that you have that you know will be there for you when shit goes down, but you're still scared of making eye contact with them. nice ppl but also like... u wouldn't want 2 encounter them in an alley after you said that their meatloaf was overcooked or something. it's PROBABLY people-meatloaf. 
> 
> instead of writing my lit review, i wrote this. pls help if u have lit review tips pals.

Eva Graham is a gift.

There’s an aura about Eva that transcends the aura of other kids her age.

She sits with her hands tucked under her thighs and kicks her feet back and forth; tics of impatience, inherited from her father.

According to images from her infancy, she could have passed as young Will Graham’s identical twin. Her curls, the porcelain and dusty pink cheeks, and her dimples mimic that of her father from when he was a baby. The similarities don’t stop there, though.

Her temper shoots through the roof, in times of anger. Tears find themselves gathering at her tear ducts, during passionate conversations. Her fists swing at her sides, wishing to swing at people’s faces instead. She is Graham, through and through.

Passing appointments with counselors, advisors, and therapists couldn’t ‘fix’ her temper. After appointments, she would sit quietly in the study, hands fisted in Winston’s fur and mumbling to herself. You couldn’t coax her out of her mind.

Dr. Baudelaire.

Dr. Choi.

Ms. Bloom.

Mr. Evans.

None of them could fix the grinding teeth, the clenched fists, and the tears in her eyes.

No one could fix him either.

Will wasn’t ‘fixed’.

His temper shoots through the roof, his tears crawl down his face, and his fists swing at cheeks, stomachs, and jaws. The only difference is… they all happen in his head. Never outside.

His imagination soars through the sky at the same speed that his fist would connect with a face. His tongue is acid; his words connect to the deepest parts of a person’s mind, touching on every secret and every dark thought, drawing them out like fearful puppies in a thunderstorm.

Eva will learn, someday.

Today, _though_ , is not that day.

Today, they're in Principal Crawford’s office.

“She punched a boy in the face,” said Crawford.

He wants to ask if it hurt. He wants to ask if the boy bled, but this is not the kind of company that would laugh and giggle at a bleeding nose and torn knuckles. This is the kind of company that will call CPS.

“What did the boy do?” Will asks instead.

“We found Eva’s history notes in the boy’s locker room, along with other things that belong to her. The boy is currently with vice principal Bloom, discussing punishment,” Crawford states, “I’m not here to commend Eva for her violence, but more to give her a warning on the kind of conduct that we _want_ and don’t want at this school.”

Eva hasn’t said a word, probably knowing that nothing could save her and that anything she says now could possibly carry a heavier punishment. She’s just being sent home.

She can’t make up for her missing schoolwork for the three days that she’ll be suspended and Will thinks that that’s what pisses her off the most.

“Is that all, Principal Crawford,” Will says.

“That’s all, Mr. Graham.”

 

* * *

 

 

Hannibal can never know.

“I won’t tell your papa,” Will says to Eva, “this is just between you and me.”

Will takes her out, a few acres away from their cabin, and hands her a rifle. It came with the house, hung up on the wall next to the head of a stag.

“Would he be mad?”

“Your father thinks guns are cowardly,” he tells her as he corrects her stance, “he would much rather walk up to someone, snap their neck, and run. There’s bravery in facing your opponent; giving them your face so that they’ll know exactly who brought them their end.”

Goofy footed.

She stands goofy footed.

He remembers the words from his and Hannibal’s time in Maui.

(Hannibal and long sandy blond hair with grey streaks. Warm waters. Shallow dives for hidden coral reefs. A loose Henley. It isn’t hard to remind him of Hawai’i.

Eva’s right foot leads her body. It would make her shot hit several feet away from the intended target (a can with an apple perched on top of it).

He thinks of Beverly, at the academy, and her hands correcting his stance. Her hands were clinical, precise, and cold, as she moved him like one of those dolls that Hannibal uses for his drawings. He liked her because she caught his eye once and understood him and never looked into them ever again. There wasn’t any inkling of pity in her eyes, once she soared through the ranks at the academy and he just fell behind. Will knows that Beverly talked him up to their superiors, as best as she can, but they never looked at him the way she looked at Will. (Never in the eyes, always in the movement of his body).

Will thinks he should call Beverly one of these days but he knows she’s busy. Maybe he’ll tell her about his dogs and the new puppies and ask if she has room for another in her pack.

“Dad.”

He snaps out of his stupor as he sees what Eva called him for.

A stag.

He doesn’t know if they’re native to his part of the woods. Animals tend to stay away from their cabin, sensing the presence of an alpha and his cubs. He doesn’t know which one he is, but the animals do.

“Don’t shoot,” he tells her, “let it pass.”

Eva and Will watch the stag pass in front of them. There’s an eerie air following the stag as it crosses the tree line. It makes no sound, but Will can imagine the way the leaves crunch under its heavy hooves. Each crunch makes him flinch but Eva’s hand curling around his wrists calm him and make him feel the earth underneath his boots and the wind brushing against his cheeks.

The eerie calm is disrupted by the sound of a marimba. It confuses him at first until Eva taps at his chest and he feels the vibration of his phone. Eva smiles at his absentmindedness and he smiles in return; there used to be so much more in his mind, but he’s glad that he can steal away from it once in a while.

(Beyond Hawai’i, there’s France, Florence, Boracay, and Buenos Aires. Before Hawai’i, there’s gunshots in the night, Hannibal clutching his chest, and Abigail yelling his name.)

“Hello?”

“I received a phone call from Eva’s teacher,” Hannibal says in lieu of a greeting, “Are there any matters to discuss, regarding the incident or is it all settled?”

“Eva’s suspended for three days,” Will tells him.

Eva slinks off a few feet away to toe at a mound of hay. She’s ashamed of her loose anger, but she knows her papa will understand. She’ll learn the tricks of the trade someday, but first she’ll learn the consequences of letting it get to her.

“And the boy?”

“He’ll be out for the whole week and two weeks of detention once he gets back.”

“Is this fitting of your opinion of punishment?”

“The boy won’t be able to make up a week of school work and once he gets back, he won’t be able to get back into the graces of his peers once it all gets out.”

“Good.”

Will sighs.

There’s something in the way that Hannibal praises him for his opinion that gets him breathless. Eva is _their_ child, but the feeling he gets when Hannibal praises him for how he handles Eva’s issues and temperament makes him a proud husband and father. To be seen by your partner as worthy and able, is to be looked upon by God and given a thumbs up.

“What time are you coming home?” he asks Hannibal.

“6:30, as always,” Hannibal replies, “would you like me to make any stops on the way home?”

Will nods, forgetting that Hannibal isn’t standing next to him.

“Yes,” he answers, “Do you mind going to the bakery at 5th and getting a small cake for Eva?”

“What would you like it to say?”

“I don’t know,” Will replies, “Congratulations on punching a douchebag? _You_ decide.”

Hannibal laughs and the hairs on Will’s neck stand attention. There’s something about hearing Hannibal’s laughter after a stressful day at work and at home.

(It triggers him, sometimes. It sets him off. Hannibal’s laughter at the expense of a man falling on his ass, after bumping into will. Hannibal’s laughter as he snaps the same man’s neck, three days later, when they find him leaning on Will’s hatchback with an eerie grin on his face.)

“I’ll see you both when I get home, then,” says Hannibal, “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

 

* * *

 

“I do not want to celebrate the violence you have committed today, but…”

Eva can’t stop laughing.

Will is peering over Hannibal’s shoulders and giggling at his husband’s humour.

_Congratulations on punching a douchebag!_

(Eva’s cheeks are red and she can’t stop laughing at her papa’s ridiculousness. It’s not that she forgets that there’s something beyond her father’s refined suits, slicked hair, and ten dollar words. She knows that her papa can snort, with the best of them. She knows what he sounds like high on helium balloons and making fun of Uncle Brian. She knows what he looks like hiding behind the bushes at 4 am, ready to pounce at Aunt Beverly and Dad as they come home from Uncle Jimmy’s bachelor party. He’s like the ocean; his depths vary. He can be shallow as a wading pool and as deep as the Mariana’s trench.)

“As I was saying,” Hannibal continues, “I do not _condone_ the level of violence you have displayed today. Ms. Bloom readily described to me what the boy looked like, post-attack, and I commend the strength that you showed to him and possibly all the other… _bullies_ at your school.”

“But…” Eva adds.

“It has come to my attention that you and your father frequently return home smelling of gunpowder and adrenaline,” Hannibal finishes.

“Hannibal.”

“No,” he says, “this is not me reprimanding you for something as silly as shooting an old man’s rifle at cans. This is me saying that I know that you are aware of many mediums of violence and retribution. I know that your anger is something that you are finding hard to control. This is me saying that today…”

Eva turns green with anticipation. It’s almost like she can’t choose whether to vomit or scream and is choosing to hold it all in until Hannibal finally sets his words free.

“Today, you will learn.”

Will lets out a breath that he didn’t know he was holding.

Today, his daughter learns.

Beyond the guns, the armory, and the piercing tongue… she’ll learn what he learned from Hannibal all these years.

She’ll learn how to control her racing mind and heart and turn it into a colourful imagination.

What she has isn’t _pure_ empathy like Will does, but Hannibal can foster something similar to it in her mind. They don’t know what she has. Will asked Hannibal to hold off on the analysis and diagnosis, to see where she’ll go, but Will hazards a guess that this is where Hannibal will cut the ribbon and set Eva loose upon the world, with her mind running at speeds she wasn’t aware she could reach.

She won’t become Will. She won’t become Hannibal.

What she’ll become is a combination of their strengths and _more_.

Each one of them has rooted their strengths into her mind and body. Traits from Will, that seem lacking are made up for with traits from Hannibal and vice versa.

(Eva’s is a bit on the shorter side, getting it from Will’s side of the family. She makes up for it with her presence, much like Hannibal’s larger than life character.)

In the end, she will become the best parts of Will and Hannibal and she will become unstoppable. Whatever she chooses to be, she will conquer and achieve. She will rise up to the ranks in ways that Hannibal and Will could never have risen.

Eva Graham will become their very own gift to the world.

Will’s eyes begin to water at the idea of his and Hannibal’s daughter growing. She’s going to learn earlier than he did. At the tender age of 17, she will learn and grow to become something stronger than he and Hannibal will ever be. By the time she’s Will or Hannibal’s age, the paths that she will walk be paved with the lessons that Hannibal and Will have taught her. From Hannibal’s words and Will’s experience, she will not find herself lacking of anything.

He watches Eva steel herself and support herself against the chair she was leaning on. She straightens up from her hunched back and pulls her hair away from her face and shoots a wide grin at him and Hannibal.

“When do I start, Papa,” Eva asks.

Hannibal holds out a box from his coat and gives it to Eva. She unwraps the black box and finds a scalpel surrounded by red silk and gasps. Her eyes glitter and her lips quiver but she smiles at Hannibal and nods.

“Now,” says Hannibal.

(Hannibal taught him in whispers and suggestions. He recalls the feeling of hands shifting his wrists and shoulders. He recalls Hannibal’s late night texts, talking of the future and telling him what he could be. Will knows what he went through and what he’ll go through to make sure that his daughter doesn’t struggle as much as he did.

He remembers Hannibal lining himself up against his back, silver scalpel across his throat and saying, “Now,” much like he is today. The only difference is this the scalpel is not across anyone’s throat and in Hannibal’s capable hands.

It’s in his daughter’s shaky grip.)

 

**Author's Note:**

> \- wrote this in my break b4 my 6:10 class, so i apologise for any like... lapses in sense making.  
> \- i shit u not, i don't know where i got the daughter from. abigail is not eva. abigail is in college and occasionally visits the graham-lecters.  
> \- "why did they go to all these other places?" bc hannibal, abigail, and will experienced a traumatic moment (that i may someday write about) and they needed to get the fUCK outta there bc they need to rest and just recuperate and gather their brains. what it is, i am not sure yet, but imagine having 2 see a place (everyday) where something bad happened to u, u'd wanna get away right? right. so that's what they did.  
> \- eva has curly as fuck light brown hair, green eyes, an upturned nose, and huge two front teeth. that's all i know, i aven't headcanoned her character. she's definitely 17 tho. so will and hannibal are all dusted w/ white hair and wrinkles by now. *whispers* imagien hannibal w/ streaks of white hair in his dusty sandy blonde hair and it bein in a bun at the nape of his neck. YIKEZ.  
> \- "where'd u get the name" tbh i'm bad at naming things so be glad it's not "robert" all my succulents r named robert. well that and shania twain and oscar isaac. thsi really gives away who i am. *cry laugh emoji*  
> \- i don't have a beta or a good sense of voice in writing, pals. i write scripts, so u can obvi see where i could be lacking. let me know what u think i should fix. thanks. (if u wanna be my beta, pls holler at me pal)  
> \- PLS WON'T SOMEONE THINK OF HANNIBAL AND WILL WHILE LISTENING TO "THE BOY WHO BLOCKED HIS OWN SHOT".  
> \- i don't knw what hannibal thinks of guns honestly. i'm not comf w/ my hannibal + will voices so idk who tF is talking im sorry pals :/  
> \- if u read this, comment "okay but imagine..." and fill in the blanks.  
> \- heck yah there are parents just like this (well not EXACTLY but ya get my drift). i know a few.  
> \- yes i am The Goofy Footed.  
> \- where r they now? idk use imagination pals.
> 
> AN IMPORTANT NOTE: i'm will as hell, and writing a paper and doing undergrad research on detention/suspension and what it does 2 high school kids. i know that in many cases, that shit could be fixed and made to be something better (especially bc of the kids that detention/suspension targets and affects). it's something that i've done research in and have been a part of, in my hs years. i think that will would agree too, in some way, being a teacher and maybe having experienced hat shit in junior high and high school.  
> thank u for reading bc this will be my dissertation. *cry laugh emoji*  
> *tender whispering* i hate undergrad.


End file.
